Acta Sanctorum
by XxTwistedThornxX
Summary: His voice was the culprit. That dark voice that was intriguing and violating in all the ways a man had no right to be. It slithered through her ears, constricted around her throat, and coiled hotly in her belly like a viper ready to strike. Anyone would succumb to that velvet tongue, Clover told herself, how could they not?
1. Chapter 1

**This is a fill for the Fallout Kink Meme. Prompt is: "Alright...so,I've seen a lot of fluffy/happy ending type of fills with Courier/Vulpes,and those were delightful,but what really gets me going are the angsty,dramatic fills about saint-like couriers falling in love with Big Bad Vulpes and having to deal with that attraction,since there's no way the Messiah of Mojave is gonna join Caesar Legion with her unshakeable morals.I'm also a sucker for onesided romances,I'm seeing Vulpes only having a passing mild interest in the Courier,but that interest is mainly fuelled by respect for her fighting he loses even that when he finds out she is just a woman,a woman who even while trying very hard to be emotionless,slips little clues about her longing for may try to manipulate her feelings,to play pretend lover just to get the Courier on Caesar's side and I believe the Courier will fall for his charades,but will never accept joining the ,they'll eventually come to blows,perhaps Vulpes will back-stab her when she no longer seems to be an asset worth winning over,or perhaps she will have to kill him to assure the defeat of the Legion.**

Anyways,I'd like to see how the Courier deals with all these painful feelings,or how she deals with her companions if they found out(Boone would surely throw a fit).Maybe one of them is actually infatuated with her and this feels like a double ,MAKE THIS AS DEPRESSING AS YOU any who will fill this,I will name my unborn children after .

Sorry for the long prompt:("

**It's my first Vulpes story, so I hope he's in character...**

Clover pulled her hands away from her face as the heat finally retreated from her cheeks and the pulsing between her legs diminished to a dull throb. She stared at the patterned bedspread in accusation, as though it were at fault for her inability to catch her breath and her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

It was just a dream-no, a _nightmare_-and now it was over. She'd had nightmares about Nipton before. About the black arms of smoke that stretched up to the sky in silent praise, the gut-churning smell of bodies being devoured by greedy flames, the pitiful moans and pleas for death of those the Legion crucified. But this time it was different. They were still in her dream, the Crucified, wailing and begging, but she'd paid them no mind. Their moans of agony were drowned out by those of pleasure, the scent of skin melting in the fire was overwhelmed by the aroma of leather, metal, and a hint of water.

_That man_held her against the side of a dilapidated building. The rough siding scraped up her back as he pumped into her with wild abandon. One hand clenched her thigh with bruising force while the other gripped her strawberry curls and yanked her head back so he could kiss and lick and bite her suntanned throat unimpeded. His warm breath lingered on her sweat-slicked skin and the searing caress of the fires roaring around them made the air almost too stifling to breath. He growled into her shoulder, like the beast he was, and raised his head to whisper against her ear in that language she didn't understand. Each word was accented by an extra rough thrust of his hips that left her mewling and edged her closer to...to...

Clover unleashed a feral snarl and threw her pillow across the room. The flush had returned to her cheeks and her legs were tingling as she kicked at the sheets covering her.

She was just lonely. Frustrated and lonely. If that bastard hadn't approached her on the Strip, she never would have given him a second thought. If he had just given her Caesar's stupid "mark" and been on his way she would've been fine. She hadn't even recognized him until he spoke, anyway.

_"Ah, it's you. Do you recognize me, I wonder? It's been quite some time since we last met."_

Clover stared hard at the dapper man, trying to put a name to the handsome face. He smiled only slightly, but it was mirthless. More akin to a coyote baring its teeth at its prey. A coyote...

The man's eyes crinkled in amusement when Clover gasped in realization and reached for her gun.

"You!"

"Me."

"I told you I'd shoot you dead if I ever saw you again!"

Her threat only made him chuckle and he stretched his arms wide, feigning an embrace.

"Well, here I stand."

His voice was the culprit. That dark voice that was intriguing and violating in all the ways a man had no right to be. It slithered through her ears, constricted around her throat, and coiled hotly in her belly like a viper ready to strike. Anyone would succumb to that velvet tongue, Clover told herself, how could they not? It didn't make her sick (did it?), and it didn't mean that Benny's bullet had scrambled her brain far worse than the Doc had let on (though her bullet would scramble _his_brain when she found him, regardless of the perversions his 9mm may or may not have injected into her).

She hadn't shot him, though the thought was first and foremost in her mind while he had stood there smugly. But she knew, and he knew, that no matter how badly she'd wanted to pull that trigger, she couldn't. To the Securitrons and the Strip-walkers, he was just another tourist out for a good time. She had no proof that he was one of Caesar's and if she splattered his brains over the pavement, hers would soon join him. So, she'd scowled, lowered her weapon, and barked at him to get out of her sight. He'd chuckled at her as though she were a child, but turned and went on his way.

God help him if they ever crossed paths again.

Clover pushed herself out of bed and shimmied into her ripped up jeans. She reminded herself that it was just a dream, that there was no use in dwelling on it. It was perfectly reasonable when she thought about all the underlying factors that could have played a part in her subconscious's little after-hours display. Vulpus Inculta was just a small drop in a huge pond.

She ran her hand through her tangled curls and sniffed the camisole she'd worn to bed. It could be fresher. Clover stripped the shirt off and tossed it into the corner of the room with the rest of her laundry that she would do tomorrow (or the next day...or possibly the next). She pulled open her small wardrobe and replaced the grey camisole with an off-white tank-top.

Maybe she would accept Caesar's "invitation" and maybe she wouldn't. Right now, all she wanted was a good breakfast and possibly a nice _big _bottle of wine.

Outside her bedroom door, Clover could hear the bustle of morning routines. She smiled softly and left the confines of her room to greet the day. She closed the door behind her and moved to the dining room, where she knew her boys would be congregating.

Boone had his head buried in the fridge, no doubt looking for something salvageable for breakfast. Raul sat at the table with ED-E laying disconnected in front of him, he grumbled in Spanish and cast accusatory glares at Arcade, who only sipped his coffee innocently.

"Buenos dias, guapo." Clover purred, wrapping her arms around Raul's shoulders and kissing his cheek.

"Easy there, Boss. Don't make this old man blush." Raul gave her a very ghoulish grin, ruffled her hair playfully, then went back to fixing the eyebot before him.

Clover sat down in the chair beside him and leaned against the table, catching Arcade's eyes with a narrowing of her own.

"Are you harassing my robot, Gannon?"

"Me? I wouldn't dream of it." He calmly finished his coffee, but the smile on his face was guiltier than the cat that ate the canary. Whatever a cat was...and a canary for that matter.

"Well, I _was_considering treating you all to breakfast at the Ultra-Luxe, but now I'm not so sure." Clover sighed, examining her nails in the light. Boone perked up at the mention of food.

"You sure you really want to eat there, Boss?" Raul asked, tightening one last screw. He smiled as ED-E sprang to life. The eyebot beeped happily and floated off to wander the suite as though nothing had happened.

"As long as you don't eat the 'bacon' you're safe," Clover assured him.

"I never eat anything that reminds me of myself."

"Come now, Chloe, don't be stingy!" Arcade grinned as Clover flushed at the abhorrent nickname. "Your little death-trap is up and floating around, good as new."

Boone was already putting his boots on. He was even less talkative in the morning until he had something on his stomach, and it seemed he was going whether the group followed or not. Clover made a show of thinking about her decision before she sighed theatrically.

"Oh, alright! But only because I can't deny you boys anything," She added with a wink.

They followed Boone out into the foyer where he was waiting for the elevator. Clover bit her lips to hide her smile, knowing that no one could say a word to the man until he had fully awoken without the risk of losing a limb.

They walked quickly to the casino, Clover arm-in-arm with Raul with her another hand intertwined with Arcade's. They received a few odd looks when they stepped through the doors of the Ultra-Luxe, but Clover was immediately recognized. They relinquished their weapons (most of them), and were quickly ushered to the Gourmand.

After a few mouthfuls of food, Boone finally offered a curt "good morning" and continued to devour his meal. Arcade looked at the sausage on his plate skeptically, but after examining it he deemed it did, in fact, come from an animal and was safe to ingest.

Conversation flowed easily between their little group, even Boone tossing in a word or two (mostly just confirming or denying any questions sent his way). But, despite the camaraderie surrounding her, Clover had felt an uneasy pit in her stomach from the moment they took their seats. It was almost as though there were another guest at their table that sat just out of the corner of her eye.

Almost as though she were being watched.


	2. Chapter 2

He saw her tense the moment she stepped into the Gourmand. Her grip on the degenerate's hand tightened and she squeezed the ghoul's arm closer to her chest. She was like a rabbit that smelled a fox on the air. Her blue eyes were wide and darted from side to side as she followed the profligate sniper to their table. Even as her group conversed she looked on the edge of her seat.

As though she knew he was sitting just three tables away.

What could Caesar see in her?

Despite the Mojave's claims, the Courier was no better than any other profligate whore, especially when considering the company she kept.

The ghoul was a perversion that Vulpes was sure he could have lived without knowing, but it only proved the point that she was far from worthy of Caesar's mark. She was a blight on the land and Vulpes would sooner see her eradicated than allow her to step one foot in the Fort.

Not that Vulpes was questioning his orders. He would get the Courier to Caesar one way or another, as he was required, but surely there was nothing this girl could accomplish that a trained Legionnaire could not.

Vulpes busied himself with a battered pre-war magazine, pretended to be interested in the article about how to run sideways to avoid an alligator, and rested his eyes on the Courier's rag-tag group. The energy seemed to have lightened and even the Courier, for all her keen senses, laughed and smiled with the best of them.

They weren't discussing battle plans, but all information was important information and Vulpes was nothing if not a professional. He would sit and he would listen, and he would be sure that nothing happened to the Courier before she could do Caesar's bidding.

"...and of course she thinks, 'Hey, I can make that jump!'" The degenerate doctor from the Followers narrated. He was the most foolish of all, Vulpes thought. A man that would wish independence for a land so sick? When the time came, the doctor would be the first to die.

"Oh, Boss...tell me you didn't."

"It looked much closer!" The Courier defended, her face turned pink and she tried to hide behind a curtain of curls. The doctor snorted.

"It took me two hours to patch her leg up then another three to limp our way to Goodsprings so I could have some actual medical supplies on hand."

"You should have seen her back in Novac."

"Oh come on, Boone!"

"This I have to hear." The doctor leaned forward in his seat. The Courier sputtered about having to "take a leak" and stood, turning her pleading eyes back on "Boone". The sniper smirked, though it could have just been a trick of the eyes for how fast it disappeared.

"She thought if she jumped from the dinosaur's mouth that she could make it over the fence. She was wrong."

The Courier had already started for the casino. Vulpes watched her from behind his sunglasses as she moved past his table, paused, checked over her shoulder, then continued out. Vulpes waited for a few moments before he placed the magazine flat on the table and followed the woman out. He was sure the rest would not speak of important matters without their ringleader, so it was safe to pursue her.

The casino was quite busy for the morning. Vulpes wondered how many of the patrons had been there, wasting their caps on liquor and gambling, since yesterday. There was no sign of the Courier, but remembering her vulgar remark at the breakfast table he started for the restrooms.

The halls were empty once he left the gaming floor and Vulpes frowned. It would be difficult to walk through unnoticed by the Courier, no matter how unassuming his disguise was. He would have to turn back.

He was about to return to the Gourmand to wait her out when there was movement out of the corner of his eye. Vulpes grabbed the Courier's wrist just as she sprang from behind a column and swung her switchblade, applying just enough pressure to make her cry out and drop the weapon. She scowled and kicked at his legs in an attempt to knock him off balance, but Vulpes hadn't undergone countless hours of rigorous training to be bested by a woman.

He spun her by her arm, as though twirling her in a dance, and slammed her against the wall. He roughly yanked her arm behind her. Her switchblade was trapped under his shoe.

"It seems security is slacking." He mused, nudging the blade with his toe. The Courier snarled and struggled against his hold, but Vulpes tugged her arm up farther and she gasped. "Now, now, your doctor friend isn't here to put you back together if you break. I'd calm down, were I you."

The Courier glared over her shoulder at him, her eyes dark. She was not afraid of him and Vulpes wasn't sure if he were thrilled or infuriated at the idea.

"What the hell are you still doing here?"

"Completing my mission. Caesar wants you delivered safely." Vulpes grabbed her other arm and pinned both the limbs to the small of her back, her chest was kept flush against the wall.

"I never said I would go."

"I never said it was a request." He bent, took the switchblade in hand, and pressed the edge of the blade against the Courier's cheek. She only stared at him in a silent dare and Vulpes couldn't help the smirk that curled his lips.

"How about I take that mark you gave me and shove it up your ass?"

Vulpes spun her again, shoved her back against the wall and pinned her arms above her head with one hand. He pressed the switchblade against her lips and was delighted to see a small spark of apprehension flash in her eyes.

"You should watch your tongue, profligate. It'd be a pity if something were to happen to it."

"You're not exactly doing a fantastic job of convincing me to help you," the Courier snarked. She tried to wriggle free again but Vulpes held her firm. He used his body weight against her, keeping her legs pinned with his own. They were so close, he could see flecks of violet in her eyes and smell the dust in her hair.

"You'll do as you're told," Vulpes took the knife away from her face, flipped it closed, and slipped it into his jacket pocket. "Because we have something you want."


	3. Chapter 3

Clover clenched her fists and eyed the man warily, calculating just how much time she would have to run back to her companions after smashing her head against his. She decided against it in the end, not fancying the idea of an aching skull and not wanting to touch him more than necessary. His calloused hand around her wrists was already _far_ past necessary in her book.

"There is nothing I could ever want from _you_."

An Ultra-Luxe employee turned down their hall and for a moment, Clover thought she was saved. But Vulpes's hand slipped from her wrists to tangle his fingers in her hair. Clover's hands went to his shoulders and she dug her nails into the fabric of his suit in an attempt to push him away. Vulpes snaked his other arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him to keep her pinned, though to an outside party they simply looked like two lovers enjoying a moment of solitude.

His head bent to brush his lips against her ear as he whispered, and the warmth of his breath scorched her entire body.

"Come to the Fort and I will prove you wrong."

Revulsion flooded through her, then shame at the heat that burned her cheeks and pooled in her belly. His fingers in her hair were too reminiscent of her dream and his body was too warm for a demon that slaughtered an entire town. It wasn't right, it was disgusting.

She craved more.

The employee, graciously, didn't spare them a second glance and Clover hoped beyond hope that the Ultra-Luxe was too sophisticated for gossip. Once he was out of sight, Clover snarled and pushed the Frumentarius with all her might. If nothing else could be said about Vulpes Inculta, he was very solid. Her hands slapped pathetically against his shoulders and he chuckled darkly.

His grip in her hair tightened and he yanked her head back roughly. Clover yelped and met his eyes with an angry glare, or more accurately, she met her own gaze reflected back from Vulpes's sunglasses. She knew his cold eyes were staring at her, could feel them burning into her corneas from behind the dark barrier.

Clover wasn't afraid of much. Deathclaws were like puppy-dogs, Fiends were just balloons of meat waiting to be popped, and the Legion was nothing but overgrown boy-scouts. But something about staring into her own eyes and knowing that behind them, it wasn't her staring back..._that_ was intimidating.

_I can see you...can you see me?_

He smirked. That damned, arrogant tilt of his lips that suggested he knew all her innermost thoughts and secrets. Clover caught a flash of his teeth, a sharp cuspid belonging to a beast that could smell fear and she couldn't suppress the shudder that wracked her body.

"Three days." His purr was venom and he released his hold on her, pushing her back against the wall. Clover braced herself with her hands and grunted.

"I couldn't make it to Cottonwood Cove in three days, even if I wanted to!"

Vulpes turned his back on her.

"If you want to complete your delivery, Courier, you have no choice."

He didn't look back as he walked away. Clover continued to hold herself against the wall, willing her thundering heart to slow and despising the sudden chill where Vulpes's body had burned her flesh. After a calming breath, Clover forced herself to move back to the casino.

Caesar had the platinum chip...is that what Vulpes was telling her? And she had three days to heed his summons before he what? Sold it? Destroyed it?

"This is _not_ what I signed up for." Clover sighed. She meandered her way back to the Gourmand and took her seat at the table. She forced a smile for her friends despite the multitude of thoughts rolling around in her head.

She would need to leave as soon as possible, maybe even walk through the night. She definitely couldn't take Boone or Arcade with her-Boone would shoot up the place and Arcade would bitch and moan until they left. She didn't think Caesar would find his sarcasm as endearing as she did, either. Raul was perhaps the most accepting of the Legion, but he wouldn't be able to make the trip without frequent stops for his aching joints, bless his heart. She could take ED-E...but as much as she loved the floating hunk of scrap, he wasn't much for conversation.

Her only option was to go alone.

"What the hell happened?" Boone's voice snapped her out of her thoughts and Clover focused on his scowling face. She was about to voice her question when Arcade gingerly took her arm in his hand.

"You didn't have these when we came in." Arcade noted, his eyes focused on her wrists. Clover followed his stare, noticing the purple bruises forming on her skin. "One of the tourists get handsy with you again?"

_Damn that man to the deepest circle of Hell_, Clover thought.

"Yeah, something like that." She murmured. Boone stood from his seat abruptly, moving to the casino entrance. Clover scrambled to her feet. "It's ok, Boone! I got him good, you know me!"

"I'll get him better."

Clover groaned. Raul and Arcade were already standing, both looking none-too-pleased with their leader's new decorations and looked as though they were considering following the sniper out.

"I guess breakfast is over. Let's go grab him and go before they 'nicely' escort us out."


	4. Chapter 4

**This is just a short update while I work out which scenes I want to include and which to scrap. Thank you to everyone reading! It really means a lot to read your reviews and see the favorite alerts.**

Clover pulled her pack over her shoulder and sighed. The suite around her was quite and it was a cold reminder of the journey she had ahead. Arcade had run down to the Old Mormon Fort to drop off some research notes Julie had requested. Raul elected to head down to Mick & Ralph's to pick up some repair supplies. Clover thought Boone may have gone with him, as he'd been interested in a more advanced scope for his rifle.

Clover tapped the toe of her boot against the floor and worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she lightly fingered the carefully penned letter on her desk.

_Arcade, Boone, ED-E, & Raul,_

Heading back to Goodsprings for a bit to see the Doc. It's been a while and I think I'm overdue for a visit. I don't want any of you to be bored so I'm going on by myself. Don't worry, I'll be back next week! Don't burn the Lucky 38 down while I'm gone. 3

I love you, boys!

Clo. 

If the letter wasn't convincing enough, at least the boys would head in the wrong direction. Clover turned the paper over in her hands and glanced at her bedroom door nervously. She hated lying to them, even indirectly, but she had little choice. Hopefully they would forgive her if they found out.

Her bedroom door creaked as it opened, a screeching, guilty siren in the silent suite. When she closed it, the sound echoed in her ears like thunder.

"It won't be for long." Clover reassured herself and placed the note on the small table next to the elevator. She hit the call button and shifted on the balls of her feet, tangled a curled lock of hair around her finger, anything to distract her from the guilt welling up inside her. She felt dirty, like a woman sneaking out of her house to meet with her illicit lover. Clover frowned in disgust at her own analogy and feared she would never get the horrible image out of her head.

She thought about just telling the boys where she was going. Perhaps lying wouldn't be the best course of action, but she knew they'd want to come with her. She didn't want to risk it, didn't want to risk them. They were the closest thing to a family Clover could ever remember having and she would be damned if something happened to them over her screw-up.

So, she would go alone. She was nervous, terrified, but she needed to recover that chip. Whatever it was, it must have been important, especially since she had been _shot_ over it. And something so important should not be left in Caesar's hands.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Inside was brightly lit and welcoming, but as Clover stepped over the threshold she felt as though she had walked into the mouth of a beast. The doors swallowed her whole and her stomach clenched as she began her descent of its esophagus.

Clover slipped her sunglasses from the collar of her shirt and perched them on her nose. It was after noon and the sun would be at its most brutal for the next couple of hours, not the best time to be leaving for an escapade across the Mojave, but she did have a deadline to meet. She really wished she had convinced Raul to get one of those pre-war motorbikes up and running, as it would have made the journey that much easier.

_Can't be helped...I'll just go in, get the chip, and come right home. I shouldn't be gone for more than a week, a week and a half at most. Everything is going to be fine. _

The elevator chimed again and the doors swung open. Clover shrieked and slammed against the far wall, clutched a hand to her chest, and tried to keep her balance. Boone stared from the casino, one brow arched above the rim of his sunglasses. His sniper rifle wasn't strapped to his back, but Clover saw the handle of a combat knife sticking out of his boot as she tried to calm her breathing.

"Going out?" Boone asked and took a step to the side. Clover swallowed and pushed herself off of the wall, she stepped out of the elevator as though the sniper had not just startled five years off of her life.

"Kind of." She ran a hand through her hair and took a calming breath to finally slow her heart to its usual rhythm. She glanced at Boone and froze. She could faintly make out his eyes scrutinizing her from behind his sunglasses.

"You either are or you aren't. Not that it's any of my business, I guess." He told her. Clover busied herself with a lock of hair and could feel Boone's eyes narrow. "But, you've been acting strange since this morning."

"Strange? How so?"

Boone shrugged and took a step toward her. Clover wondered if he noticed her flinch. He didn't say anything about it, at any rate, only stared at her from behind his glasses. She could still see his eyes behind the lenses, hard to make out but they were still there. She wasn't afraid to meet his shielded stare, not usually. Even though his eyes were hidden, she could see just enough of them for her to know that he was still Boone underneath.

_I can see you..._

"You've just been quiet." He offered at last. His eyes locked on her finger, anxiously twirling in her hair, then down to the dark bruises on her wrists. "Something to do with those?"

"No, nothing like that." The lie tasted bitter on her tongue and Clover shook her head and forced her arms to her sides. She had a terrible poker face, one of the many reasons she was not allowed to gamble in the casinos, and Boone was as sharp as they came. A note might fool him for a moment or two, but Clover doubted her ability to lie to his face. "I'm just going to head out to Goodsprings for a bit, ok? Just need to get away from all this...city."

"I'll go with you."

"No!" Clover shifted under Boone's suspicious gaze. "It'll be boring. I left a note for you guys up at the suite so you'd know where I went. You all need to relax a bit and I'll only be gone for a week. After that, we can get back to taking names and kicking ass."

"So, you were just going to leave without saying goodbye?" Boone frowned.

"Well, I figured I'd leave as soon as possible so I could get there faster."

Boone looked as though he would argue, but he remained silent. Instead, his hands moved to Clover's own sunglasses. Her eyes fluttered softly at the heat radiating from his skin as he pulled the shades away from her face.

"Tell me again where you are going."

"Goodsprings." Clover internally applauded herself for keeping her voice steady. Boone searched her eyes for a moment, a deep frown still etched on his face. He didn't look like he believed her, but he straightened and handed her glasses back to her.

"Weapons?" He asked simply. Clover took her glasses from his outstretched hand and tilted her hip so he could better see the holsters hanging against her thighs.

"Two .44's, a knife, extra ammo, water, food, and a bedtime story." Clover grinned. As always, Boone didn't look amused.

"You have a week to get back."

Clover returned her glasses to her nose and lifted her hand in salute. Boone shook his head and muttered something to himself. Clover felt a rush of relief flood through her.

"Watch your back, conserve your ammo, and don't travel at night."

"Anything else, boss?" Clover snickered.

"Stay safe."

The grave tone in his voice gave her some pause but Clover smiled softly and nodded.

"Of course," She promised. "Take care of yourselves, I'll be home soon."

Clover gave him a small wave and turned for the casino doors. Boone hit the call button for the elevator, he pretended not to watch her leave over his shoulder as she called one last "Good bye!" and stepped out into the blinding sunlight.


	5. Chapter 5

**IMPORTANT: READ: I WILL NOT BE SAYING THIS AGAIN! This chapter contains a short scene depicting NON-CONSENSUAL sex. (Noted by a page break) Allow me to make one thing perfectly clear: In writing this chapter, I am in NO WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM, CONDONING THE ACT OF RAPE. That means I'm not going to sit back while someone gets on their little soapbox and tells me I should be ashamed of myself for writing something like this. I've had an experience in the past with another fic in which someone threw a little shit-fit because I mentioned the word "Rape." IF YOU LEAVE A REVIEW GRIPING ABOUT NON-CON, I WILL POINT YOU TO THIS WARNING AND YOUR REVIEW WILL BE DELETED. IF NON-CON IS TRIGGERING FOR YOU OR NOT YOUR CUP OF TEA, I HAVE BEGUN THE SECTION WITH A PAGE BREAK AND ENDED IT WITH A PAGE BREAK TO ENSURE A PLEASANT READING EXPERIENCE. JUST SKIP OVER THAT SECTION. I understand these things can make people uncomfortable, but this is not at all the most explicit thing I have ever written and there are many a published novel that put extreme detail into their non-consensual scenes. You now know where it begins and what you can do to avoid it and that is all I can offer.**

**Thank you for reading this PSA and please enjoy the following chapter of Acta Sanctorum.**

"Watch your step, it's rocky here!" Clover warned. She paused, glanced behind her, and her shoulders slumped. She was alone. Clover sighed and pulled her damp hair away from her sweat-slicked neck, choosing to rest for a brief moment before continuing. The sun would set soon and the last sweltering rays burned her cheeks as it sank.

Clover took a quick swig from her canteen. She had promised Boone that she wouldn't travel at night and considered finding a place to rest until the morning, but the three-day-deadline loomed over her like an angry Deathclaw. She took a quick scope of her surroundings, frowning when the Mojave stretched endlessly in front of her. Even if she were to rest for the night, there wasn't much in the way of shelter nearby.

She checked the Pip-boy around her wrist. It seemed heavier than usual and was uncomfortably hot since the metal casing had soaked in the sun. The GPS had her headed in the right direction but despite the considerable distance she'd managed to travel since that afternoon, she was still too far from her destination. If she walked into the night, she could at least make up the time she lost from that morning.

"I'll turn my flashlight on." Clover defended to no one in particular and continued to walk through the dust.

The orange light of the sunset quickly gave way to the deep navy of night. Behind her, the Strip blazed to life, shooting a blast of neon light into the sky and shrouding stars from view for miles. Clover fiddled with the computer on her wrist. She was still unfamiliar with the Vault-tec instrument and wondered if she had ever been able to use one before she had been shot in the head. She turned the knobs and pressed the buttons, watched the screen flicker from the map to her vital signs, but she could not get the beam of light to shine.

So engrossed in her task, Clover didn't see the drop until her boot hit open air. She pitched forward, a shocked yelp ripping from her throat as she tumbled down the hill. Stones jabbed into her skin, a cloud of dust billowing behind her as she rolled for what seemed like an eternity. Her head slammed against a protruding rock with a resounding crack. Fireworks exploded in front of her eyes before a creeping blackness overcame her, engulfing her in a silent abyss.

* * *

_She sat on the edge of the bed, playing with the hem of the light yellow sundress _He_ had found on his last scavenge run._

Who is He?

_Either she doesn't hear or she doesn't remember, but she's happy. It's the first time _He_ has ever brought her to the Strip. The lights, she thinks, are the most beautiful things she has ever seen. There weren't lights like that where she grew up._

Where? Where was that?

_She still doesn't answer. Her heart is swelling with what could only be love. She looks in the mirror, her blue eyes bright and excited and her strawberry-blonde curls cutely frame her face. A soft pink blush dusts her cheeks as she waits._

_"She's a pretty lil thing." A man muses outside the door. Cigarette smoke slithers from his lips to tickle his nose._

_"You know what I want." _He_ holds his hand out in demand and the other man chuckles. The man drops the inhaler into _His_ hand and glances toward the door._

_"Half now and half later. I need to be sure she's worth it." The man puts his hand on the handle and turns it with a flick of his wrist._

Run.

_She is shocked by the sound and turns to greet _Him_ with a smile, but it falters when the stranger enters the room._

Why doesn't she run?

_She screams when he is on top of her. She calls for _Him_ and her nails claw at the man's cotton shirt. It isn't until he tears the skirt of her new dress that she truly starts to panic. It isn't until she looks away and sees _Him _in the doorway, watching, that she starts to cry._

_The man's hands are rough and his breath is hot. He whispers to her, violent words in soft tones, as he settles between her thighs. One hand trails up to her face, sweetly brushing a stray lock of hair from her face before taking her chin between his fingers. He positions her face to look at him and he sneers._

_Her eyes, wide and tearful, stare back at her from the surface of his dark glasses. She watches the sun behind her eyes extinguish when he enters her. She watches joy and wonder turn to shame with each snap of his hips. She can't pull her gaze away. Even when his face dips to her neck to lick and bite, she stares straight ahead and remains haunted._

_The man's lips smirk against her neck and he presses a surprisingly tender kiss against the darkening bruise he just inflicted. He pulls his face back briefly to stare at her and she manages to clench her eyes shut and hide before her guilty stare can accuse her again. The man chuckles breathlessly, pushes into her with more vigor than before, and dips his lips to her ear._

_"_I can see you._"_

* * *

Clover gasped and bolted upright. Her clothes stuck to her skin with sweat and her chest heaved as she desperately tried to pull oxygen into her lungs. The air was musty, like dust on old wood. A white light flashed behind her eyes and Clover crumbled back to the ground with a groan. Her head was killing her and she clenched her eyes shut against the pain.

_I can see you._

Clover's eyes snapped open and a cold shiver traveled down her spine. She realized, then, that she was no longer out in the sands of the Mojave. Instead of rocks and cacti, she saw a rotted wood floor and walls with peeling floral wallpaper. The windows that she could see were boarded up with planks of wood and rusted nails. She was lying on an old, itchy rug, but the room was otherwise barren.

Slowly, Clover pushed herself to her knees. Her hand went to her hip and she paused, her body stiffening. Her guns were missing. The weight from her backpack was also absent and the revelation forced Clover to her feet. She looked around the room frantically and noticed an archway leading off to a hallway.

She swallowed in an attempt to combat the dryness of her mouth and carefully moved toward the dark corridor. She could see that the hall wasn't very long, with a door immediately to her right and another a few feet down to the left. She tried the handle to the first door but it held fast. It was either locked or stuck and Clover reached into her hair for a bobby pin before the door down the hall creaked open. A small sliver of light beckoned to her from inside.

Clover didn't give the locked door a second glance. She crept up to the open door, peeking through the crack to check for enemies before slipping inside. It was a bedroom, fairly large in size with what Clover assumed to be a washroom tucked off to the side. A queen-sized bed rested against the far wall, adorned by two rotting nightstands with cracked, dusty lamps on either side.

Her pack and guns rested on the off-white sheets.

Clover cautiously made her way over, tense as though eyes followed her across the room. She opened her pack and looked inside, noting with relief that everything seemed to be in its place. She hadn't been robbed, at least. Her eyes left her effects and rested on the dusty sheets. Her head was still throbbing and the bed did look soft. But as she thought to lay down upon it, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

She twirled on one foot, grabbing her .44's in her hands and flicking the safeties off. She came face-to-face with the razor-sharp edge of a machete. Her guns aimed both above and beneath the blade, ready to fire on its owner. She stood still for a moment as she waited for her attacker to make a move. Her eyes crossed as she focused solely on the blade a mere centimeter from the bridge of her nose.

"You're sturdier than you look, profligate." A sickeningly familiar voice mused. He lowered his blade a fraction and Clover scowled at the smirk twisting his lips.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be _shitting_ me."


	6. Chapter 6

**I just want to take a second and thank everyone for their reviews, favorites, follows, and just taking the time to read this story in general. It really means a lot to see that what I write is being enjoyed. I know I have a long way to go, as far as skill goes, but I hope this story will continue to be an enjoyable read. Thank you again!**

Clover scowled but she did not lower her guns from the man across from her. Vulpes stood confidently and he lowered his blade just an inch to get a better look at her face, but it was still poised to strike should her fingers get twitchy. He, however, watched her with an amused smirk and tilted his head to the side.

"You have an odd way of showing gratitude," he mused. His voice was like a snake slithering through the dust in the air between them, forked tongue flicking out to find its way to her ears.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Clover moved one gun to aim at his head and the other at his groin. Any sudden movement and she would take him down one way or another. Vulpes noticed her aim and his lips twitched as he adjusted his grip on his machete.

"As entertaining as our little stand-off is, don't you think it'd be more comfortable to speak without the looming threat of death or dismemberment between us?"

"You first," Clover retorted with a nod to the blade.

"Very well," Vulpes lowered his machete and sheathed it at his waist. He cocked his eyebrow at her when she still made no move to lower her guns. "Come now, here I thought we'd made a gentlemen's agreement."

"Too bad neither of us are gentlemen," Clover huffed and cocked her guns.

"It would be a shame to kill you after taking the trouble to drag you in here," Vulpes' eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't do something you'll regret."

Clover hesitated and took a step back. A curled lock of hair slipped between her eyes and hooked around her chin. It tickled her skin but she couldn't brush it out of the way for the risk of the Legionnaire overpowering her. Her body was still sore from her fall and her head throbbed. She was as good as coyote food when she had slipped on that hill and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to fight off the larger man if it came down to it.

But, was he telling the truth? Had he really dragged her out of the wastes?

The thought of his hands on her made Clover's skin crawl, but at the same time she wondered why he would have bothered. She had never hidden her distaste for him from the moment they met in Nipton to their little encounter in the Ultra-Luxe. As she holstered her guns, she couldn't help but wonder "why?"

As if he could see the question swimming behind her eyes, Vulpes lowered the dog's head resting over his short-cropped hair and boldly turned his back to her to dig through his satchel.

"Lord Caesar has entrusted me with the task of delivering you to him safely—or at least breathing," Vulpes took out a canteen and held it out to her. His eyebrow arched bemusedly when Clover wrinkled her nose and scowled at the water as though it were a leper. "However, I'm sure he won't object to a few missing fingers or toes should you refuse to cooperate. Nothing that would render you useless to him, but enough to teach you lesson, I would think."

Clover narrowed her eyes into her best glare, but the sight of the canteen forced her attention to the dryness of her throat and the stickiness of her tongue in her mouth. She snatched the water from Vulpes' hand, tilted her head back and poured a stream into her mouth, greedily gulping the liquid down but refusing to allow her lips to come into contact with where _his_ had once touched. A small trickle of water escaped the corner of her mouth and dripped down her chin and neck before she snapped her head forward and met Vulpes' eyes.

"Touch me again and you'll lose your hands," she threatened, tossing the canteen at his head. Vulpes caught it easily and chuckled darkly.

"I would love to see you try."

* * *

_Deep breaths,_ Clover thought. _In through the nose and out through the mouth. One…two…one…_

Clasping a hand over her mouth, Clover threw herself to the edge of the raft and retched. She had already expelled the miniscule breakfast she'd managed to scrounge together that morning, but her stomach apparently kept a secret reserve which ejected itself through her throat and into the Colorado River below.

"Fucking, fuck, God damn fuckery…" If she had been able to think of any other curses to spew, she would have. Instead, Clover groaned and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

"Charming," Vulpes drawled. He lounged on the other edge of the raft, perfectly at home on the undulating death-trap that they traveled on. His eyes followed her as Clover pushed herself with shaking arms and flopped onto her back. He watched her throat bob as she swallowed thickly and he smirked at the disgusted grimace that twisted her features.

"How long until we get there?" She grumbled, more to herself than to the two legionnaires in her company. Vulpes seemed to merely ignore her while the other (she had been too focused on the slab of wood meant to charter her to the Fort to care about getting his name) tasked himself with keeping the raft on course. With their silence, Clover closed her eyes, but it only seemed to worsen the rocking motion and it made her head spin.

"However long it takes us," Vulpes eventually replied, though his eyes were trained on the distance as if he were pondering the very same thing.

Clover snarled and pushed herself upright. She opened her mouth to snap at him, paused, then flopped back over the edge of the raft and heaved again. She shuddered when nothing came up, there was truly nothing left for her to throw up, but her insides didn't seem to get the message. Her stomach spasms were far more painful as it tried to empty itself once more.

She would be thankful when this escapade was over. Vulpes had proven to be a less than delightful travelling companion. He had been intent on meeting the three-day deadline that _he _had imposed, pushing Clover through the night and the day until they reached Cottonwood Cove that third day's afternoon.

Clover internally cursed him in every way she knew how. It wasn't as if she had asked him to escort her. In fact, she had planned on sneaking out of that small farmhouse at first light, leaving him behind without another thought. Unfortunately, it was Vulpes that had nudged her awake with his boot a few hours before sunrise. He had been ordered to deliver her, and deliver her was what he would do.

Their journey had been mostly silent, at least until they had arrived in Cottonwood Cove. Clover had argued rather vehemently about getting on the so-called ferry, demanding another way to the Fort. Now that they were actually on the way, Vulpes could see why. As soon as they left the dock, the color had drained from the courier's face, and her skin obtained a green-ish tint. The briefest movement seemed to upset her and she'd spent the majority of the ride bent over the river, groaning and heaving.

Clover felt her stomach clench once more, but that was all. She remained near the edge, just to be on the safe side, and turned to look up at the sky.

This wasn't how she had planned her entrance. She doubted Caesar would find her intimidating in the first place, but showing up before him, green and motion sick, would completely destroy her "total bad-ass" value.

_Fear me_, _Lord Caesar. If you don't surrender, I just may throw up on your boots, _Clover thought ruefully. Her lips tilted in a lop-sided smirk as she imagined the revulsion on the man's face. She couldn't help snickering at the mental image.

"Make yourself presentable," Vulpes's voice cut through her daydream and Clover turned her head to glance at him. "We've almost arrived."

Clover slowly pushed herself up and looked over her shoulder. In the distance, she could see it. It took a conscious effort to not allow her jaw to drop.

The Fort was bigger than she expected. Surrounded by a massive, spiked, wooden fence, and from what she could see, there was yet another fence inside the enclosure, peeking out at the top of a hill. She had thought the Legion would be based in a respectable sized camp, but nothing of the magnitude that was slowly inching its way toward her, and growing more intimidating by the second.

This was why they called it "Fortification Hill," she realized. And in each passing moment, as the walls of the encampment loomed higher and higher, she felt her first twinge of anxiety.

"Surprised?" Vulpes sounded amused, but his voice was laced with a hint of pride. Clover managed to pull her eyes away and looked at him.

"It's big," she allowed, sitting back to rest her weight on her hands. "You all compensating for something?" Clover held her pinky out for emphasis.

"Mind your tongue, profligate whore!" The ferryman spat, his face red with anger. Vulpes gave him a single look and the man quieted and continued to steer them toward the dock.

"I suggest you practice some tact. Caesar won't find your remarks nearly as entertaining as I do," Vulpes warned Clover with a slight smirk. "That's not to say that I would not find it even more entertaining to watch him kill you for slighting him. With luck, he may even give me the honor."

"My friends know where I am," Clover lied. "Even if you did manage to kill me, you'd have the entire NCR on your ass faster than you could blink."

"I'm positively shaking," Vulpes snickered. "Honesty, now. Don't you think that if the entire force of the NCR could take Fortification Hill, they would have done it already? I doubt the death of one little girl would be enough to spur them into a suicide mission."

Clover frowned, but said nothing. She still felt nauseous and realized that, in her current state, she should have just kept her mouth shut.

"As for your friends, they were last seen heading southwest. They spoke about meeting up with you in…Goodsprings, was it?"

Despite how Clover tried to keep her face blank, she must have done something to give herself away as Vulpes's lips pulled up into a devilish smirk.

"Caesar has been interested in you for a while now. We've watched you and your friends for just as long. Even if you had asked them to stay behind, if they knew you were coming here they would have followed you, wouldn't they? I had men keep track on them just in case of that event, but you sent them in the wrong direction."

Vulpes stood and easily made his way over to where Clover sat. He pulled her to her feet by her arm, rocking the raft only slightly as it came to rest at the dock.

"Allow me to give you just one more piece of advice," He spoke quietly in her ear. "Do as Caesar bids you or we'll burn Goodsprings to the ground. Your pitifully loyal friends included."


End file.
